


Trapped in Chains, Bound in Pain

by laraanita



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laraanita/pseuds/laraanita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inside of Bumblebee's mind, how does Megatron ensure the scout's compliance? Rated M for torture and maiming. Set between Sick Mind and Out of His Head. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped in Chains, Bound in Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Happens between Sick Mind and Out of His Head. Totally non cannon now of course but oh well.
> 
> Torture and pain ahead, also use of lots of transformers anatomy, so I hope I got that right. Feel free to say if I didn’t, girl’s gotta learn somehow. I used ‘servos’ with the TFAnimated definition, where it seems to be about hands.
> 
> Enjoy.

It wasn’t until he onlined his optics to the sight of his old room in the Iacon barracks that he realised something was wrong. For one, he’d only just been accepting praise from his commander and friends for saving said commander’s life. For another, Iacon was long gone, uninhabitable. A dream then, but why had he fallen into recharge while standing upright? Bumblebee sat upright, gazing around the room. Everything was just as he’d left it before they’d evacuated, fleeing from the damaged planet in order to let it regenerate itself. If it was a dream, he mused to himself, it was a very accurate dream.

 

He couldn’t resist getting up to run his servos over the items he’d once cherished. Here, a small statue given to him to decorate his berthside table, a gift from Jazz. And over there by the small window, a replica of an organic plant made in thin sheet metal. Beside it was a storage cube, and he knew what would be inside when he opened it. Bumblebee took the cube in his servos and felt his spark give a little flutter of delight. It might only be a dream but it would be nice to see this little treasure again. He pushed down slightly on the top and it retracted with a quiet click. An alarmed chirp left him when he realised his treasure was missing.

 

“Looking for something, scout?”

 

His doorwings shot up in shock at that rasping voice, and as he spun around he dropped into a fighting stance, an angry whirr accompanying him. _Megatron_. The cube hit the floor with a quiet thump.

 

The warlord towered over him in all his menacing glory, a self-satisfied smirk on his faceplates. One clawed servo was tight around something small and yellow, his treasure. He stepped forwards, red optics browsing the room’s sparse content. “You Autobots were always so sentimental.” He murmured, optics resting on the view the window offered. “Then again, my own dreamscape was Kaon, so I should not be surprised you would manifest this place.” He moved past Bumblebee, the shorter mech backing away as he questioned the Decepticon leader’s presence.

 

“I wasn’t going to let you leave me there, locked inside that useless body.” Megatron shook his head and returned his gaze to the scout. “I’m taking control, for the moment, and you won’t be able to stop me. If you don’t fight, I might even let you live when I’m finished with you.”

 

So that was why he couldn’t remember anything after the praise – what had Megatron done to his friends?!

 

Megatron laughed. “I have not harmed them – yet. They believe you to be exhausted from the patch, and that you are resting.” They didn’t know he was harbouring a passenger in his mind and if Megatron had his way, they wouldn’t.

 

The scout clicked a question at him, vocaliser refusing to work even in this place. _How did you get here? Arcee’s shot should have offlined you!_

 

“But it didn’t. And here I am, safe and sound inside your mind.” A glint came to Megatron’s optics, and Bumblebee almost shuddered; only the doorwings on his back twitching gave away his discomfort. “You got the formula you needed to save Optimus, now you are going to restore me.”

 

Like the Pit he was, and he told Megatron as much, feeling braver since the Decepticon couldn’t possibly touch him in here. After all, it had been the same in Megatron’s mind –

 

For a moment all he could feel was pain, a crushing weight on his chest plates and endless agony from the appendages on his back as they were squashed between the hard floor and his back. Megatron’s pede was pinning him to the floor, touching him, causing him harm – without phasing through him. Terror leapt through the scout’s spark as he realised Megatron could do whatever he wanted and he wouldn’t be powerful enough to stop it.

 

“You don’t have a choice in the matter.” Megatron’s pede pushed down on him once before moving away. “Be grateful I need you online.”

 

Bumblebee let out a pained chirp and rubbed at his dented chest plates, wishing Ratchet was there to fix him up. Almost as soon as he thought it, the door to his little room burst open and in stepped the medic bot himself. The scout’s first thought was to warn him of the warlord still lurking but it was too late. Before Ratchet could say a word he was dissolved into turquoise smoke by a swing of Megatron’s arm blade. A mournful croon left Bumblebee even as he remembered it was only a figment of his mind. Still, it was Ratchet and it hurt to see a friend explode into mist.

 

When Megatron’s attention returned to him, he shrank back, plating scraping along the floor as he shuffled away from the warlord. He didn’t get very far. A clawed servo wrapped around his leg and hauled him back. Red optics and scarred faceplates stared down at him, a smirk twisting the features. “The only way to make sure I stay in control of this pitiful body,” he was saying, “is to ensure that you are kept in this…dreamscape.” With a jerk of his arm, Megatron was pulling him towards the berth he’d woken on. His spark pulsed in fear and he scrambled for purchase on the smooth floor, trying to fight off what he thought was coming. He even let out a pleading whine, making the warlord pause and laugh.

 

“You think so highly of yourself Autobot? If I wanted a cheap frag I would go to Starscream.”

 

Bumblebee flinched at the comparison and offlined his optics in shame. He didn’t online them again when he felt himself lifted and dropped onto the berth.  Something heavy clanked down beside him, rattling as it was moved. Chains? He onlined his optics in alarm but by then Megatron had his arms pinned above his head and was wrapping the length tight, binding them there. He wasn’t strong enough to break the links – where had the chain come from? He found out when Megatron drew back and another length appeared from a turquoise haze. It seemed Megatron knew how to manipulate his environment well. His legs were bound as well, one to each of the lower corners so they were spread. He shuddered and offlined optics again. Megatron might have said he didn’t plan on anything lewd, but spread out like this? It would have been easy for those claws to pry apart his armour whether it was the metal of his panel or the armour hiding his spark chamber. Easy to crush his young spark between cruel talons…

 

He almost didn’t notice Megatron speaking again. “Since I need you online, I can’t exactly take this opportunity to offline your sorry chassis. Keeping you here like this will have to do.” Bumblebee felt something sharp scrape down the armour on his thigh and couldn’t stop the shaking of his plating as his sensors registered something that wasn’t quite pain. His optics flickered to life and saw one of Megatron’s claws leaving a scratch where it had been. The warlord looked thoughtful as he flicked the small amount of paint that had gathered on the tip of his claw to the floor. “I need something to keep you grounded here though…But what?”

 

He took a step towards the head of the bed, taking Bumblebee’s face in hand, tilting it this way and that. “A little pain should keep you too focused here to fight against me.” Bumblebee’s spark sank in its chamber and he tried to jerk his helm free of Megatron’s grasp. The only reward he got for his efforts was the crunch of metal on metal as Megatron’s free fist slammed into his already dented chest plates. Glass cracked and his vents floundered as they tried to draw in air, sensors screaming from the pain flickering across them. His vocaliser let out a twisted yelp of some kind, and it was hard to miss the satisfaction on Megatron’s face at the pained sound. The smug expression only grew when a grey hand dug its claws under one of the thin yellow plates and began to twist it off.

 

Bumblebee screamed. There was no other name for it, despite its warped sound through the damaged vocaliser. His chassis bucked as the agony grew and with the sound of tearing metal, the ruined plate came away dripping energon. It was dropped to the floor and the claws returned, digging under the same plate on his other side. Another bout of seemingly endless agony and it joined its twin on the floor with a soft clang. The scout’s chest was heaving as his vents worked overtime to try and cool his systems. Through the pain clouding his processor, he hoped this would be the end of what Megatron had in store for him but it was not to be. Razor sharp digits were already moving under the seams of the next chest plate and it took all his effort to remain still, to relax. Tensing up would only make it worse, and yet it was exactly what he did. Another distorted cry left him as Megatron violently removed the third plate. This one was crumpled into a ball before it was dropped to the floor, Megatron’s optics on him as he began to tremble under the pain bombarding his sensors. He wanted the pain to stop, to go away, but he refused to beg. He would keep some of his dignity.

 

By the time the rest of his chest plates were on the floor, Bumblebee was beginning to loose coherency and a soft pleading click escaped him before he could stop himself. He was missing all the armour over his chest, energon slowly leaking out of damaged lines and those cruel claws were sliding under the armour covering his legs. He shuddered and pleaded again, begging. _Please don’t do this, stop_ \- but Megatron didn’t listen. His grip tightened and he twisted at the metal. Bumblebee screamed in sheer torment as he felt the plate snap, half of it still attached and sending shocks of pain shooting through his sensor net. His leg jerked and energon began to drip steadily as the sharp edges of the ruined plate caught a normally hidden tube and sliced it open. He heard rather than saw Megatron tutting since his vision was filled with static.

 

“I am the one who should be damaging you, scout. Hurting yourself won’t speed this up.” He didn’t feel the talons wrapping around the spike of armour over his knee joint until more pain ripped into his sensor net. He arched off the berth, legs pulling at the bindings holding them in place as they tried to dislodge the Decepticon’s servo crushing the yellow plating. This time it wasn’t removed, instead crushed and disfigured, a source of constant pain which only doubled when the other section of pointed armour was given the same treatment. His vocaliser gave one last scream before it shorted out. Static was the only noise leaving him now, barely audible over the sound of overworked vents and dripping energon.

 

Bumblebee didn’t think he could take much more of this. He tried to speak, to beg, to plead for it to stop. Only static came out. It seemed as if Megatron had heard him regardless and he backed off. He shook his claws to rid them of the energon covering the silver surface. “That should be enough to keep you here for the moment. If you try to escape, you’ll only cause yourself more pain, and I’ll know about it.” He smirked and turned his back on the berth. He had a body to restore after all, and it wasn’t going to do it on its own.

 

Bumblebee watched him go, giving one meagre attempt at getting free before he gave up with a wail of static, offlining his optics in defeat.

 

Megatron’s heavy steps paused before they reached the door. He was afraid to look at the warlord for fear of what would come next, what torture would be inflicted on him now. Something small hit his damaged chest and he flinched as his sensors flared in pain. When it faded, he chanced a look to see what had hit him. Megatron was gone, thankfully, but it was the little things on his bare chest that made his vents hitch. Two tiny, yellow doorwings. His first in fact, from his sparkling frame. Bumblebee had wanted to keep something to remember those carefree days by, when war hadn’t ruled everything. He’d hoped to one day use them on his own sparkling’s first frame but now they were long gone, just a memory in his head. He gave a sad croon as he watched them slowly turn into green mist, wishing the chains binding him would do the same. He was not so fortunate and they stayed put, firm and binding him to his own subconscious.

 

He was trapped. Megatron was in control…and there was nothing he could do to stop him.


End file.
